


Tonight, She Takes

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Complete, F/F, Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Smut, a consistent point of view?, but like only sort of and its completely consensual, sorry i don't know her, waverly was supposed to be a top in this but shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: Tonight, Waverly decides, she is going totake.She’s breathed the notion in between overtures of pleasure, typically followed by biting her tongue as Nicole coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of her until the thought was left lapsed into the corner of her mouth, crushed between her teeth, forgotten.





	Tonight, She Takes

**Author's Note:**

> if u notice that there is a distinct change in writing style as the lil story progresses.............sorry.
> 
> you can check out my tumblr [here](https://please-say-nine.tumblr.com) and send me prompts or scream at me in general. either works.
> 
> if you're familiar with my work you know I hate endings. this fic is no different. sorry.

Nicole’s hands are always gentle, unwaveringly steady as she takes Waverly until she’s nothing more than a mess of shaking limbs and whimpered pleas underneath her. It’s beautifully unfair, the way Nicole makes her come undone with such little effort, as if she were composed of glass, fragile and breakable, able to shatter at a moment’s notice.

Tonight, Waverly decides, she is steel; a work of art incapable of fracture.

Her breath seems insistent on telling her otherwise; it rattles against her ribcage in a heartless stutter—mocking. This is not her commonplace, to stand up when she knows Nicole would rather her sit, to give when she knows Nicole would rather her take.

And Nicole is the definition of a generous lover, always making sure Waverly is fulfilled in every way possible before asking for any sort of compensation.

Tonight, Waverly decides, she is going to _take_.

She’s breathed the notion in between overtures of pleasure, typically followed by biting her tongue as Nicole coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of her until the thought was left lapsed into the corner of her mouth, crushed between her teeth, forgotten.

It’s what she wants, and she’s going to _take_.

* * *

The night finds her curled under the comfort of the duvet with _Anna Karenina_ grasped lightly in her hands, eyes unseeing as she trifles through the book. Her legs curl underneath her as she waits—Nicole’s penchant for logging the paranormal at work puts her on night-shift every so often (despite complaints from both Waverly and Nicole and Nedley’s indifference), and perhaps it’s time to forgo the plan entirely, she thinks, as weariness creeps over her limbs.

Nicole must be exhausted as well, and presumably in no mood to do anything other than come home and collapse into bed.

The sound of boots downstairs pulls her from her reprieve as a door shuts. The Homestead groans in approval at the addition of its final housemate, ready to settle in for the night. Nicole rarely calls up the stairs, rarely tries to let herself in with any sort of entrance, to let Waverly sleep during the night shifts where she cannot.

That being said, the amount of times she comes home to find Waverly still awake in bed, if only just, vastly outweighs the latter.

A breath of resolve steels Waverly over and she pushes the duvet from her frame and rises to her knees, spread low. The air feels cool against a scantily covered center, clad in thin black lingerie that leave nothing to the imagination as her hand begins to work against herself, slowly, slowly.

Not that Nicole has any imagining to do, anyway. Many nights find her head buried between Waverly’s thighs as her tongue draws her to the edge of the world and back, creating patterns against her that has Waverly screaming and fisting her fingers into the sheets of the bed.

She’s poetry, Waverly thinks, as Nicole’s breath hitches in her throat at the sight. Waverly’s on her knees on the bed, chest thrust forward in pleasure and her hand works against her. Brown eyes meet hazel and Waverly grins innocently, then uses her other hand in a beckoning motion.

Nicole’s movements are almost robotic in nature, forced, as if any step she takes somehow draws her further from Waverly, unwilling to tear her eyes from the vision before her. Her jaw bobs unceremoniously. “Waves—what—”

“Come here.” It’s hardly more than a whisper so deep Nicole thinks she may have imagined it, if she hadn’t been transfixed on Waverly’s lips, puckered in pleasure. Her hands reach out to brush against Nicole’s uniform and draw her in closer when she reaches the bed, replacing her own hand with her lover’s.

Nicole shudders and presses forward until she’s leaning over Waverly, sprawled out over the bed and legs parted. Her middle and forefinger works deftly as the pad of her thumb rolls over Waverly’s clit. Waverly hisses in delight and arches into it. “Harder, baby,” she moans. At the lack of response to the appeal, Waverly wraps her legs around Nicole’s back and _pulls_ with her heels, forcing Nicole’s fingers up to the knuckle inside her.

Nicole gasps and tries to retract her two fingers instantly. “Baby—no, I don’t want to hurt you—”

“ _Nicole_.” A lilt of dangerous proportion seeps into Waverly’s voice; a strange darkness overlaying the typical sweet. “I told you to _fuck me harder_.” Her hands tangle into Nicole’s hair and pulls her down, down, until Nicole’s lips are pressed against her jawline.

“But I could hurt you,” she gasps against Waverly. And yet, Waverly can feel the hesitation as she says it, can feel the way her body reacts when Waverly flexes her abdomen to drag her fingers in further and trap them. Nicole _wants_ this, perhaps even more than Waverly does.

The next words are whispered against the shell of Nicole’s ear as Waverly guides her other hand into her hair and _pulls_. It reveals her neck, a beautiful expanse of creamy skin that Nicole has to fight to urge to sink her teeth into. “So hurt me.”

It takes little coaxing from there—Nicole slips a third finger inside Waverly without warning at the same time the thumb of her other hand presses against the underside of Waverly’s chin to force her head further back. The pounding becomes almost mechanical from there, spurred on from the gasps and moans Waverly procures.

She lets out a particularly blasphemous scream as Nicole gives into her urges and sinks her teeth into the flesh of Waverly’s neck. “Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Waverly hisses. Her heels press harder into the small of Nicole’s back and her toes curl in delight as her orgasm washes over her. It throws her head back against the pillows and digs her nails into the sheets so hard that it creates small lacerations in the cotton. Nicole’s name follows, a shrill scream that leaves her wanting more, more.

Nicole wants _more_ of this Waverly, this Waverly who takes without regard, and she’s loathe to admit that she underestimated her lover’s undoing. And, clearly, it has left a lasting impact on Waverly, who seems insistent on disproving her feverishly tonight.

She’s not sure she could mind if she tried.

Waverly’s body goes slack against her as the last ripples of her orgasm ripple through her and leave a panting mess against the sheets. “I’m sorry,” Nicole whispers as her fingers trace the shell of Waverly’s ear and her tongue dips down to trace her jawline. “Did you think you were done? Did you think I was done with you yet?”

A splash of wetness coats her fingers as Waverly’s eyes blow wide in arousal. She shakes her head fervently and grinds her hips down to coax Nicole on. The pain is delicious, a burning she doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of. “Good girl,” Nicole coos. Her fingers begin to work against Waverly again. “Take it all.”

“How many?” Waverly pants as her hips roll again. A burst of color explodes behind her eyes. Nicole’s fingers, unfairly dexterous when even only using one, rarely make her feel the intense pressure she does now, like she could tear in half, magnificently so. Her lips have begged for more fingers before, only to be met with halted exaltations claiming of pain if she were to, and then she’d worked Waverly to the edge of the world forgotten about it entirely.

“Three. Too many?”

“Perfect, it’s perfect.” Waverly lets her eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels the familiar pressure build in her lower stomach. It takes little effort for her to come again, much quieter and smoother than the former.

Nicole’s fingers carry her through it, absolutely exquisite, until she’s found solid footing back in reality and her breath has slowed in her chest. Her lungs hurt, or perhaps it’s just her thoughts that weigh down heavily against her ribs. “I’m here, baby,” Nicole murmurs against her hair, pulling her in close.

Waverly melts against the touch.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos/comments if you liked it!


End file.
